‘You put that thing away now, missie. ” Ann Veronica sat at the foot of the sufferer’s bed, while Teddy Widgett, being something of an athlete, occupied the only bed-room chair—a decadent piece, essentially a tripod and largely a formality—and smoked cigarettes, and tried to conceal the fact that he was looking all the time at Ann Veronica’s eyebrows. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer.
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